One Happy Ending
by Ravenya03
Summary: An AU glimpse into the future for two outlaws who were never given the credit they were due. This isn't how Allan-a-Dale should have died, this is how he should have LIVED.


_I wrote this almost a year ago now, as a gift-fic for Bostonchickadee to give to her when she finished her epic "Distant Shores" fic. It was never going to be shown to anyone else, but after the extremely heart-rending two-part finale of "Robin Hood", I thought I'd publish it here in the hope it might cheer up some Allan fans. _

_"Distant Shores" is an AU fic that shipped Allan and Djaq, and this is meant to be a glimpse into the future of what their life together might be like. If you don't like that pairing, I suggest giving this a miss, but for everyone else who felt that Allan deserved a long life with the woman of his dreams and a family of his own, I hope you enjoy... _

* * *

The residents of Locksley were used to the little family that lived on the outskirts of the village, ignoring the strangeness of the cottage's inhabitants for practical reasons. Simply put, the benefits they brought far outweighed the oddness of those that provided them. Renowned for his nimble fingers and sharp eyes, the man of the house was the most successful huntsman in the district (though locals were careful never to play cards with him) whilst his foreign wife had long-since won the love of the people with the remedies and medicines that were distributed freely among the villagers. And if she chose to always wear breeches instead of skirts – well, surely that was just some Eastern eccentricity. As for the boys, you could not help but like them despite their odd appearance. Along with their unnerving blend of dusky skin and bright blue eyes, they'd also inherited their father's wit and their mother's intelligence. Neither did it hurt that both were under the patronage of Locksley Manor. They stayed there every summer while their parents went on annual journeys to neighbouring counties so that their mother might spread her healing touch to as many as possible.

That evening, the woman in question sat on the front step of her modest country house, combing out her long dark hair as she watched her family return home across the fields. She had not cut it since peace had been declared many years ago, letting it grow down almost to her waist. It was a source of endless fascination to her husband, for not a day went by in which he did not curl a strand around his finger, or stroke its ebony sheen, or sweep it over her shoulder so that he could kiss her neck.

Now she smiled to herself as she watched him striding across the space between them, goading the boys in their rough-and-tumble as they went. Tom was always leaping and tussling with the other boys, having inherited his father's mischievous streak in its entirety, but this evening even her Jack was getting in on the act, rolling and pouncing and yelping along with his brother. It was moments like this that she seriously considered the possibility that she'd given birth to rambunctious puppies instead of children.

The two of them reached her at the same time, tumbling into her lap, and in her attempt to hug them both at once, Jack slipped from her grasp. That was alright though, as she'd have plenty of time to make it up to him in the coming months. For the first time he was to accompany his parents on their summer travels, having an interest in the skills of a physician not yet shared by his brother. She was looking forward to it, more than she usually did, the yearly journey being a compromise between her husband's deeply buried desire for home and hearth, and her own wanderlust, a trait she'd never known she possessed till a group of outlaws had revealed it to her.

"C'mon boys, get inside. I want to talk to your mother. And Jack – you still need to pack your things if you plan on comin' with us."

There was no confusion in the household over the bearer of that particular name, for there was no longer any need for her to use her brother's final gift to her, no need to hide her own femininity any longer, or to fear the restrictions that would have once been imposed on her because of it. She had been Safiyah again since her wedding day.

As the boys scampered inside, Allan stretched out beside her, lay his head on her lap and turned his face to the setting sun.

"I thought you wanted to talk," she said, knowing full well that talking had never been his purpose in sending the children away.

"I lied," he replied. "I wanted to rest. Not being funny, but those kids get more like you every day."

"Oh, you mean charming and intelligent and lovable?"

He chuckled to himself, the soft chuckle that she knew she'd never get tired of hearing, not if she lived to be a hundred.

"No, I mean they're drivin' me crazy. Why didn't we have girls?"

She hid a smile behind her curtain of hair and waited until he had begun to run its black glossiness through his fingers, before speaking again.

"Would you like a girl this time?"

Blue eyes burst open and locked themselves on brown.

"What'd'yah mean?" he asked.

She let her smile answer his question, and then leaned down to kiss his own burgeoning grin. She had to close her eyes as she did so, as the look that she could never meet was in his eyes again, the one of such utter happiness that it bordered on reverence. It always threatened to overwhelm her, scaring her to think that she could be the cause and reason for it.

"Maybe this time I'll get one with your eyes," he muttered hopefully.

"And _your _nose," she replied, running the back of her finger down its length.

"Not funny," he told her, and kissed her again.

* * *

After night fell, while Safiyah checked on the boys asleep in their beds, Allan set the dogs on guard at the front door before softly calling his wife to him. Even now, many years and nearly three children later, the two of them would often do as they did tonight, and steal out into the forest to lay their cloaks down together under the leafy canopy and the gleaming stars.


End file.
